


Catwalks and Coronets

by seki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: When Prince Noctis meets the beautiful Ignis Scientia at a backstage party, he's instantly intrigued, and justknowshe has to find out more about this man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU involving fashion model Ignis and fashion designers Lunafreya and Ravus Nox Fleuret, along with a few distinct other divergences from the canon storyline that will become obvious as the story progresses.

Noctis normally avoids invitations like this one. A new fashion collection, as part of a short and very exclusive show on a catwalk set up in an _oh-so-cutting-edge_ ex-factory in the most trendy part of Insomnia. Accepting the invitation means sitting through the actual show, and then attending the after-show party and mingling with the models and guests and designers.

Basically, it's an evening of polite boredom and smalltalk, neither of which is Noctis's idea of a good way to spend time.

"You're not backing out," Luna tells him, sternly, and she fiddles with his shirt collar.

"I know."

"And you're going to find nice things to say to my brother about his designs."

Noctis rolls his eyes. "I know."

It could be worse. The show is menswear, which means there'll be eyecandy for Noctis to look at. And Ravus is a friend -- more or less -- and he knows Noctis hasn't got the faintest idea what high-end fashion should look like, so he won't be expecting any great insights from Noctis afterwards. Noctis being there is really just about having the Crown Prince of Lucis in attendance, according to Luna. It'll draw attention, not that Noctis can really see why, since he's _famously_ been friends with the Nox Fleurets since he was tiny. It'd be weirder if he wasn't going.

Luna fiddles with his shirt collar again. "Don't look bored."

"I know."

She gives him a long-suffering look. "But will you manage it? Come on."

Noctis isn't the King, but as Heir he gets a lot of the same treatment his father would. He's announced, so that everyone stands up when he walks into the main catwalk room, and stays standing until he sits down. It's one of the things he tends to regard as dumb ritual. It's not even respectful. Most of the people are probably grumbling inside their heads about having to stand up for him.

Once he's seated, however, the focus for the evening moves to where it should: the catwalk. Ravus's is the last collection today, but there are only two to sit through beforehand.

Noctis keeps the pleasant, faintly-interested expression pasted onto his face for the whole of the first collection. It's an effort; the men are pretty hot but they've clearly been told to scowl and frown, and the clothes are sort of boxy and beige. It's just not very fun, or very pretty, or very anything. Noctis's opinion isn't shared by the room; the designer comes on-stage at the end to rapturous applause.

The next set is a bit better, or at least, involves more revealing clothing. Noctis lets himself admire because that way he'll definitely be obviously paying attention; long legs, muscular chests, firm jawlines, shapely collarbones. There's a lot of stiff fabric everywhere there isn't bare skin, and Noctis supposes that the contrast is supposed to be the point. He smiles and applauds with everyone else at the end, as the tiny designer makes shy bows to the room.

"Ravus next," Luna whispers, unnecessarily, but Noctis sits up a little more smartly anyway, ready to find things to comment on.

Ravus's collection is mostly formalwear -- suits and waistcoats -- and Noctis has been prepped a little bit by Luna on this. The _cut_ , she's told him, is the point here, elegant lines that flatter the wearer.

Damn, Noctis finds himself thinking as the models go past. Ravus knows his shit. Every model looks _great_. Of course, they're selected to be all pretty and fit anyway, but in the suits they all look classy and sophisticated, a long succession of beautiful men in close-fitting clothes that make Noctis think unhelpful thoughts about what's under the fabric.

Luna leans in. "Good so far?"

"Great," Noctis says, sincerely.

The model on the catwalk right now, in the grey suit, is pretty much Noctis's ideal type when he's judging purely on looks, he thinks. Long, long legs, light brown-blonde hair, and a beautiful chiseled face. If appearance were everything, then Noctis would be all over this guy.

The model poses, one hand on his waist, and smiles out at the audience, and Noctis actually feels a physical _tug_ of interest above and beyond his general appreciation of handsome men. That's far less glossy and perfect a smile than Noctis would have expected, and it makes this beautiful creature suddenly look imperfect and, well, a little bit silly. Noctis finds himself smiling back, and watches the man walk back down the catwalk even more appreciatively.

"I like him," he murmurs, to Luna. "He's _cute_."

"Noctis."

"What? I'm allowed."

She shakes her head, in faux-disapproval. "Watch the clothes, not the boys."

"I can do both!"

The cute model emerges once more right at the end, this time in a vest and trousers cut from a tweedy material that should look stuffy and instead looks somehow perfectly designed for lounging around in. Noctis waits for the daft-looking smile again, and finds himself grinning in response when it appears. At least if he's being shallow, he's being shallow for someone who seems more human than most of the rest of the models.

The show ends and all the models come out at once and Ravus joins them to say a few things about his designs. The applause is good, and Ravus looks as pleased as he ever does. Noctis feels himself relax. Great. Ravus's debut has been a success, and now the gossip magazines will stop claiming that the former Prince of Tenebrae is only dabbling in fashion. Not that any of them officially pay attention to the gossip rags, but Luna says it's been frustrating for Ravus not to be taken seriously, and Noctis can understand that.

There's a final wrapping-up statement by the show organisers, and then the show is officially over.

Noctis has a bunch of prepared statements for the inevitable barrage of journalist questions, thank god. The fashion industry is a true indication of the creativity and stylishness of Insomnia, he says, as charmingly as he can, and he's glad to have the rare opportunity to come and support it in person. He hopes all the designers get the praise they so clearly deserve, because their collections were wonderful. No, he doesn't think he'll be buying any of the pieces himself -- this, he says as wryly as he can -- because unfortunately he's tied intimately to the Citadel tailors, and wouldn't dare offend them by going elsewhere. That earns him amusement, and then after a few more queries about trends and seasons Noctis is allowed to escape.

Luna escorts him backstage.

There's a party atmosphere back here, with models and designers and the various guests and journalists mingling around. Noctis accepts a drink, and lets Luna pull him over towards one of the other guests, a visiting noble from Altissia who dips her head and asks Noctis a few chirpy questions. She's nice, but Noctis gets the impression she's trying to lead the topic around to his barren love-life, so he answers cautiously and keeps pushing the conversation back to her.

The model with the sweet smile is on the far side of the room, talking to a man with silver hair. He's in shirt and tight jeans, having shed the high-fashion clothing like all the other models, and -- Noctis checks -- his shoes have inch-high heels. Surely the man is tall enough already, Noctis thinks, amused.

He pulls his attention back to the noblewoman just as she says that Ravus's collection is disappointingly safe, and Noctis can't let that sort of thing slide so they have a very genial disagreement over fashion as garment and fashion as art. Ravus's clothes are beautiful but they're also items one would wear normally, and that's as valid and important as extravagant but impractical clothing.

Luna tugs at his elbow. "I've someone for you to meet," she says, and flashes a smile at the noblewoman. "If you'll excuse his Highness?"

"Of course."

Noctis lets himself be led, curious, and then he realises Luna's destination. "No, wait, I can't just--"

"It's fine, Noctis, I promise."

"But--"

"It's _fine_." Luna pulls him the last few steps, and taps on her 'someone's shoulder. "Ignis?"

The cute model turns around and looks visibly startled. "Ah--"

"Ignis Scientia, I present His Royal Highness Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. Noctis, this is Ignis. He's one of the models who was in my brother's show."

Like Noctis didn't know. "Nice to meet you," he says, politely, wondering exactly how painful a death he can cause Luna to have for this. "It was a great show."

"I… yes, your Highness." Ignis's voice is resonant and rich, and, oh, is that an accent?

"Oh, Noctis doesn't need all that Highness-ing," Luna says, cheerfully. "And isn't it interesting? You two are both dagger fighting specialists."

Noctis goes from wanting to kill Luna to sudden gratitude. A common interest? Bless her, giving them something to talk about. "You use daggers? What type?"

"Long ones, usually, your Highness," Ignis says, and his accent is very obvious now -- somewhat like Luna's, cut-glass and refined-sounding. "Thrown, for preference."

"Thrown?" Noctis lets his eyes drift down to Ignis's arms for a moment. "Okay, but I _have_ to throw daggers, I'm a shortass. Surely you've enough reach not to have to throw?"

"Perhaps not _need_ , but distance is still safer than close combat."

"Hm."

"Though I confess I also dislike how often I lose daggers," Ignis says, and the smile that's tugging on the edge of his mouth now is wry, and definitely sexier than the smile he had on the catwalk. "My salary isn't up to replacing them at quite the rate I get through them."

"I hear you -- I got screamed at by the armory guys the first time I lost half a pair of matched Avengers." Noctis shudders, theatrically, and he's dimly aware that Luna is backing away, leaving the two of them to talk. "I shouldn't even have had them, really. Far too good for practising with, and then when I was messing around one of them just went, poof. No idea where it ended up. Never had warp break on me like that before or after."

Ignis tips his head to one side. "Warp as in instant translocation to the weapon? I've seen footage of the Kingsglaive doing it. It looks fascinating."

"Yeah? It's one of the best things about my magic, honestly." Noctis means it, too. Teleportation feels more _magical_ to him than any of his other powers, except maybe healing. "I wish it was longer-range, but unless I take up javelin throwing or something then I'm only ever gonna be able to get as far as I can throw a knife."

"So the distance is dependent on your own ability to propel a blade?"

"Yep -- or, well, of whoever throws it. You warp to the thrown weapon, rather than away from where you are."

Ignis nods, his eyes alight with what seems to be genuine interest.

"We experimented with arrows and crossbow bolts for a time," Noctis adds. "But projectiles don't quite work with the magics right. I mean, I use guns sometimes just so I've more range, but I can only warp to the gun, not the bullet. I've done that -- thrown the whole gun to warp, I mean -- but it feels ridiculous."

"A pity. But a good idea to innovate, rather than relying on the old ways."

"Oh, it wasn't my idea. Smarter people than I, in the Citadel."

Ignis smiles. "Your highness is very humble."

"Please, just call me Noctis." Noctis smiles back up; Ignis doesn't seem bored or even 'politely tolerant', which Noctis sees a lot. "And the Glaives did a lot of the experimentation. I did play around with it too, but mostly it just confirmed their results."

"You grant the Kingsglaive access to your magics, is that right?"

Noctis nods.

"Is there a difference in the magics from you or from his Majesty? I mean, would Kingsglaive with his Majesty's powers perhaps have different tolerances for warping?"

Interesting idea, but based on a popular fallacy. "Uh-huh. The Glaives are all tied into the root power that my father and I both pull from, rather than it being via either of us, if you see my meaning."

"You're not conduits?"

"Nope. In fact, some of the more experienced Glaives have more power than I do right now, though as I age I'll outstrip them. Apparently."

Ignis shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and Noctis thinks, for a fleeting second, that perhaps he's boring this beautiful man after all. "I've seen some of the footage of your rescue efforts," Ignis says, however. "Very admirable work for you to do."

"I've gotta do something," Noctis says, dismissively. "Feels like a waste of my powers, otherwise."

"Yes, I suppose you might feel that way."

Noctis tips his head, as a thought strikes him. "Gotta say, though, I'm surprised you're weapons-trained. I mean, seems weird for a model to learn to fight." As he says it, he wonders for a moment if that's true, or if it's actually the trendy thing for models now. Maybe it is. Trends are weird that way.

I started training in arms long before I became a model," Ignis says, and then his half-smile goes a bit sly, and he adds, "but I agree, most of us prefer to slay only on the runway."

Noctis blinks, startled, and then laughs. A joke. Oh. Ignis is _adorable_. "Still, must be handy. You've gotta knock 'em dead however you can, right?"

"Correct. Looks can't quite kill all by themselves, it transpires." Ignis's eyes are creased at the corner with humour, as if delighted Noctis is going along with this.

"Even if you're wearing really killer heels?" Noctis offers.

Ignis actually chuckles. "Stillettos equipped at both ends, you mean? I shall have to try."

"I'd like to see that." Noctis swallows down the little knot of nerves in his throat. Okay. The guy's gorgeous, funny, and he seems to think _Noctis_ is funny too. Noctis hasn't liked someone this much this fast in, well, ever. And while it's probably a cliche for someone like Noctis to ask out a model, cliches have to come from somewhere. "So, um, I don't usually do this, but would--"

"Your Highness," someone interrupts, their hand on Noctis's elbow, and Noctis turns immediately, startled. It's his press secretary Scilla, who gives him a wry smile. "My apologies, but you really must talk to Lord Ravus about his collection before he leaves the party."

"Just a second--"

"No, no, of course," Ignis says, and he dips forward into a courteous little bow. "I've been monopolising your Highness for far too long. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. It was an honour."

"I… yeah. It was really nice," Noctis says, and that's it, the chance is gone. "Thanks."

Noctis lets Scilla tow him over to Ravus and Luna, trying not to be too grumpy. No big deal, he thought to himself. You don't _know_ this guy, and anyway he's a model, aren't they all superficial and arrogant? Probably best not to even try to start something.

"Prince Noctis," Ravus says with the bare minimum of a bow, as Noctis gets close. "You honour us with your presence."

"I couldn't miss this," Noctis says. It's true, too. Luna would have _killed_ him. "And your collection was brilliant. So good even _I_ could see it was good."

It's sincere, and apparently Ravus realises this, because he looks genuinely flattered, and Luna is grinning ear to ear. "Ah -- thank you."

"I mean, I know you think my fashion taste is abysmal," Noctis says, wrinkling his nose. "But even so."

Ravus's smile, such as it is, is accompanied by an eyebrow raise. "Are you planning on buying any of my pieces? I'm sure I can fit you into my client list, if I must."

"Nah, your stuff is too upmarket for me. Besides, I think I'd have to be about a foot taller to wear any of it well."

Ravus gives him a dead-eyed, weary look in response to that.

"It's true," Luna muses. "You _would_ need a lot of tailoring to fit in those."

"Or heels," Noctis says. "Like, six-inch platforms."

Ravus snorts. "Perhaps I can persuade Gentiana to lend you her boots, then."

"The thigh-highs? Kinky." 

Luna giggles. "I'm sure she'd oblige, if only to see the results."

"I'm pretty sure it'd be horrifying to all witnesses." 

"I agree," Ravus says, his lip curling theatrically with feigned disgust.

They talk, genially, for a while -- or rather, Luna talks animatedly about the collections, while Ravus nods and occasionally agrees or disagrees with his sister, and Noctis just tries not to look too lost as they use words like 'lustre' and 'luminosity' about objects which don't seem like they should possess either trait. It's fine. They know him well enough to know that if he's actually bored, he'll leave them to it, but they're a safe island of familiarity in a sea of people Noctis doesn't actually know and they won't mind if he's just nodding along to their conversation.

Noctis does sneak a few looks in various directions, trying to see if he can spot Ignis. He does, after a while; Ignis is talking to a slightly shorter man with spiked silver-grey hair, dapperly dressed, and he's nodding seriously in response to whatever the man is saying. Ignis has somehow gained a pair of spectacles, slim-framed and oval, and they look _great_. Noctis has always had a definite weakness for men in glasses. This is _ridiculous_ , he tells himself. One man can't possibly be this appealing, like he's been tailored precisely to Noctis's tastes.

As if he feels Noctis's eyes on him, Ignis glances over and their gazes meet. Eye contact sends an actual, palpable thrill down Noctis's spine, and he smiles, hoping he doesn't look as keen as he feels. Ignis smiles back, his eyes creasing around the edges in that pleased way again behind his glasses, and then he returns his attention back to the man in front of him.

Noctis continues to look over covertly. Maybe he should ask Ignis for his number anyway, he thinks. But it's a party. They'll drift into each other's orbit again before the end of it. No hurry. And it'd be rude to just walk over there and interrupt the conversation.

Except that after a few minutes Ignis checks his watch, and then says something that looks like an apology to the man, and then makes his way very directly towards the exit.

Oh. Oh shit. He's leaving.

And there's no way Noctis can go chasing after him without causing a scene. Dammit.

"Ravus," Noctis says, interrupting whatever Luna was talking about. "Is there any chance I could convince you to do me a _huge_ favour?"

Ravus gives him a suspicious look.

"I just need a phone number. For the modelling agency you used."

"You do? I can provide, I suppose."

Luna's look is even more suspicious than Ravus's was. "Noctis."

"I… okay, I was gonna ask him out, then I got dragged away, and now he's gone."

"Ask him out? You barely know him. You talked for perhaps a few minutes. What are we to do with our wayward Prince, brother?"

Ravus shrugs, his expression now shrewd. "If he can't manage to close a deal for himself, then perhaps I shouldn't assist."

"Hey, you just said you'd help me!"

"That's before I knew you were hounding some poor man." Ravus sniffs. "Really, Noctis. Shame on you."

"Hey, he liked me. I think, anyway. We made jokes at each other. It was nice. _He_ was nice. And now he's left and you have _got_ to help me talk to him again."

Luna puts her hand on Noctis's arm. "He does seem sincere."

"Ravus, please."

"Oh, very well. I'll oblige you on this one occasion."

"You're an _angel._ And my favourite."

Luna makes an amused noise. "Your affection is so easily bought."

"Shut up, I've always preferred your brother. He's prettier than you."

Luna makes a fake-outraged face, and Ravus shakes his head at both of them. "It's a good thing you two are no longer betrothed," he says, musingly. "Your marriage would end in you both strangling one another."

"Oh, hell no. Luna'd kill me, I wouldn't stand a chance," Noctis corrects. "It's only fear that keeps me kissing up to her."

Luna sticks her tongue out at him, and then she drapes an arm over his shoulders. "I fear my brother's tolerance for this party is drawing to a conclusion," she says. "Charming as your company is, he was planning on leaving before you came over."

"If you go, I'm going," Noctis says. "I'm done here."

"Then we depart together," Ravus says, solemnly. "Comrades in social discomfort."

"You are _so_ definitely my favourite today. Luna, you coming?"

She shakes her head, and tightens her arm briefly. "Unlike you boys, I enjoy talking to people."

"Weirdo."

"And before Ravus gives you that phone number, you have to agree to come to _my_ next show."

Noctis lets the horror reach his face. "What? No. Come on, Luna, it's girls in knickers, I can't watch that without it being weird."

"Tasteful lingerie, and yes you can."

"Luna--"

"Swear it!"

Noctis looks at Ravus, who gives him a look that means 'my sister's word is law and you know it'. "Alright," he says, grumpily. "I'll attend."

"That's more like it." Luna withdraws her arm. "Alright. You may go now."

Noctis flees, as quickly as he can, grateful for Ravus's steady presence at his side. They leave, and descend to the waiting area outside, where the attendants call for their cars. Noctis stares down at his shoes as they wait; already scuffed, somehow, even though someone at the palace probably polished them just that morning.

Ravus clears his throat. "I'll have the agency number for you tomorrow morning," he says, and it's in the softer voice he uses when they've no audience, the one that reminds Noctis that Ravus _does_ think of him as a friend despite the joking antipathy they maintain in public. "I wish you luck."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Are you truly that smitten with this man? I thought you more cautious."

"Usually I am. But, I dunno, this feels… it feels like it could be something good. Like there's chemistry." Like Fate, Noctis thinks, and then shoves the thought aside in embarrassment at himself. "Gotta give it a shot."

"Hmm." Ravus's car pulls up, a sleek white saloon car. "Then again, I wish you luck, Noctis."

Noctis grins, amused that Ravus is even a bit worried for him. "I'll be fine either way."

"Good. And do refrain from crying to my sister if it falls through." Ravus lifts a hand in farewell. "Tomorrow, then."

Noctis hugs himself. Tomorrow he can call the agency and, well, if he can't get a number then maybe he can find out the next event that Ignis will be at and arrange to just _happen_ to be there so he can bump into the man.

Can't let a fish this promising get away from him without a decent fight, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect slow updates -- once a fortnight, I think -- because while I have this planned out as a three-part series of multi-chaper stories, I've only written part of it so far! I love what I have planned for this story, and I hope you all will enjoy it too.


	2. Chapter 2

Ignis lets himself into his apartment, sets his keys down on the little side-table by the door, and sags gratefully into one of the old chairs his parents gave him when he moved in.

Tonight's show hadn't been _hard_ \-- on the contrary, Ignis had enjoyed it, not least because Lord Ravus hadn't once accused any of the models of being at fault for flaws in his clothing -- but Ignis had rather foolishly gone from training to primping to catwalk to party without any appreciable rest. His feet ached, and his spine ached, and as soon as it had been appropriate he'd begged permission to leave.

But it had been a good show, he thought, unzipping his boots and setting them to one side. Good clothes, ones he could genuinely enthuse about when asked for comment afterward. A chance to work, briefly, for one of his most famous compatriots, and finding him to be a man worth respecting. The party had been supplied with good liquor, decent food, and… 

And, well, the unexpectedly lovely Prince Noctis, who'd spoken for whole minutes to Ignis and Ignis alone, who had _laughed_ and smiled at him and willingly explained the sort of interesting-to-Ignis technical details most people always glossed over in conversation, and who had seemed to enjoy talking to him. Perhaps it was the Prince's own charisma, or a result of whatever training a Crown Prince was given, but it had truly felt like, just for a while, Ignis had had the whole of the Prince's attention focused on nobody but him.

Ignis is going to cradle that conversation to his heart for a while, he thinks.

He stretches, in the chair, and surveys his apartment. It's still very new to him. He picked up the keys only two weeks ago. It's bijoux at best, he knows, but he's in the habit of caution with money. Not that there's nearly as much need for frugality, not at this point. But he likes this small space; it's easy to fill with his few possessions, and convenient for his weapons master's school, and there's a skylight in the sloped roof that gives him a good view of the Citadel and the Crystal at the core of it.

That, there, is the very heart of Lucis.

Ignis gets up, and pulls one of the daggers down from its support on the wall. He turns it, thinking about what the Prince had said. Warping. Magic. The powers of the ancient Lucian kings. It sounds beyond belief, and yet, he knows, they're very real. Maybe one day, if Ignis's long-held hopes ever come to fruition, he might have a taste of how it feels to access those powers.

Maybe he'll even cross paths with the Prince again.

He shakes his head, amused at himself for the wistfulness of the thought. Prince Noctis won't remember him longer than a couple of hours. What a foolish idea to consider.

He puts the dagger back on its rack, and goes about readying himself for bed. Debriefing at the agency starts early in the morning, and Ignis can't afford to be late.

\--

Master Dino is only perhaps a decade older or so than Ignis. Ignis isn't sure why he no longer models; certainly most male models are expected to have careers well into their thirties. Perhaps the agency takes up too much of his time.

The models from Lord Ravus's show congregate in the big meeting room. It's a comfortable place -- big sofas, snug chairs, and there's a bathroom with a shower adjoining it. Dino turns a blind eye to models occasionally sleeping at the agency overnight, as long as they don't abuse the privilege overmuch. Ignis has taken advantage of it once in a while, instead of travelling out to his room at his parents' house out in the distant suburbs of Insomnia.

Dino goes through his long list of queries. Were they well treated? If not, explain what happened, though in this case all the models seem reasonably content. Were any of them singled out for specific praise by the designer afterwards? Were any of them given items from the collection, or from the guests? Would they all work for that designer again?

 _Only the best_ , Dino's agency tagline runs, a bold boast to make in their industry. And Dino expects Ignis and his peers to live up to the claim, in return for which he treats them well. Too well, it's muttered, sometimes, meaning he charges more than other agencies and complains loudly if his models aren't happy, but that's why models want to sign with Dino's agency and why it's seen as a mark of prestige to be able to hire his boys.

After the general meeting, Dino pulls them all in one by one for the one-on-one interviews -- brief verifications of the general questioning, a few personal comments based on his observations during the show, that sort of thing. Ignis is way down the list today, which is annoying -- he has to wait around until his turn -- but he pulls out the application pamphlets again and studies them for perhaps the five hundredth time as he waits.

 _Serve your Country!_ The cover of one says. _Protect your King!_

Last time Ignis had taken the exams had been at the end of university. He'd been accepted, had in fact been all set to graduate directly into the service. 

And then other factors had come to Ignis's attention, and, well, it had been evident that he couldn't merely pursue his own dreams.

Still. Now things are different, and it's possible for him to try and push his life back onto that track. He's merely uncertain if he'll pass a second time. He's kept up the weapons training, as best he can, but there's a barrage of interview questions and examinations to be gone through and Ignis doesn't know if he's still as fresh and well, _trainable_ as he was last time.

 _Only the best_ , the inside cover admonishes in an echo of the tagline on the agency wall above Ignis, _can be selected for the Crownsguard._

The secretary calls Ignis into Dino's office as the third in the list, an unusual queue-jump that makes the other models raise their eyebrows. To his surprise Dino is on the phone when Ignis enters. He nearly backs straight out again, politely, but Dino makes an urgent beckoning motion and gestures to the chair opposite him.

"Well, ain't this irregular," Dino says into the phone, his laid-back drawl turned up a significant notch beyond usual. "You understand, right, I can't just go handing out my boys's deets. Not even to you."

There's a murmur of response at the other end.

"It just wouldn't be kosher," Dino continues, and then to Ignis's confusion he winks at Ignis. "Lucky for you, I got him right here in my office."

Another murmur. 

"I dunno, I'll ask him. Ignis, you wanna talk to his Highness?"

His Highness? As in… the Prince? 

Ignis must look like a rabbit in headlights, because Dino chuckles into the phone. "Turns out he wasn't expecting you after all, your Highness. Maybe you should try another--"

"No," Ignis says, and it comes out faintly. He clears his throat. "Please. I'd love to."

Dino holds out the phone, and Ignis takes it.

"Your Highness," Ignis says, putting the phone to his ear. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

A little light laugh at the other end. "Ignis. I, um. Hi. Nice to speak to you."

Oh. "Likewise," Ignis says, and this must be what people mean when they talk about having their heart in their mouth, because Ignis's head feels fuzzy and light and as if the words are coming out all flat despite the emotions in his head. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Maybe." Prince Noctis makes a noise that sounds like a deep inhalation. "I, um. I enjoyed our conversation. And I wanted to stay in contact."

Ignis feels as if his heart just swelled a size. "Likewise," he says again, and then realises Dino is listening to all of this conversation avidly. "Let me give you my personal phone number."

"Really?" That's genuine relief, and oh, how strange for _Prince Noctis_ of all people to sound so shy and nervous. "Yes, please, I've a pen and paper here."

Ignis recites his cell number, winding the cord of Dino's phone around his hand, feeling like an awkward teenager talking to his crush. This is ridiculous, he thinks. The Prince must be in the habit of networking very widely for him to want to stay in touch with Ignis, or else he has something very particular to say -- perhaps he inadvertently told Ignis something that isn't supposed to be common knowledge? There must be a dozen reasons for him to be contacting Ignis, surely.

Prince Noctis reads the digits back to him, and then inhales sharply again. "And, um. Alright, look. I wanted to ask if you were available for--"

"I'm in company right now, your Highness," Ignis says, quickly, because Dino is grinning at him and he doesn't want to organise _anything_ that Dino might overhear. "But I can find somewhere private to talk if you give me five minutes or so."

"Oh… yeah, um, okay… I'll call you, then."

"Please, please do."

Prince Noctis laughs, weakly. "I promise. Okay. Five minutes."

There's a click, and Ignis puts down the phone.

Dino snorts, his grin now so wide it's threatening to split his face. "Think you're free in five minutes, do you?"

"I'm due a cigarette break," Ignis says.

"You don't smoke."

"No, but it's only fair. If I did, I'd be due a break."

Dino shakes his head, and gestures to the door. "Come back after, you hear?"

"I will. Thank you."

Outside, in the entryway, Ignis scowls up at the clouds that are drizzling rain onto the pavement. Oh well. Here's as private as anywhere nearby. He waits, heart thudding against his ribs.

An unknown number calls, four minutes and twenty-five seconds later, and Ignis picks up after half a ring.

"Ignis?"

"Yes, your highness," Ignis says.

"Ok. Good." A faint but audible swallowing noise. "I don't _do_ this sort of thing, really, ever, but would you like to come out with me? Dinner, my treat?"

That sounds so much like a date that Ignis's stomach seems to do a loop-the-loop. "I…" and then his voice fails him.

"No pressure," Prince Noctis continues, quickly. "Just, I liked you, and--"

"I'd be _delighted_ ," Ignis says. "Yes. Yes, _please_."

A faint, surprised noise. "Oh."

"Whenever you like," Ignis adds. "Your highness."

"Just 'Noctis', please. And, alright, good. I've got my schedule here -- actually, are you free this evening?"

Such short notice should be an insult, but Ignis can and will cancel _anything_ for this. "I can be. Where should we meet?"

"The corner of Togharan and Stahl? Or, better, just inside the entrance to Grand Plaza?"

"Certainly." That's a very public spot. Ignis decides not to worry overmuch; if Prince Noctis suggests it, he must have his reasons. "What time?"

"Seven."

"I'll be there."

"Good." Prince Noctis heaves in another deep breath. "This is a date, by the way, in case that wasn't clear."

Heart so swollen it could burst, Ignis finds he's smiling to himself. "I… yes, I gathered."

"Good."

"Alright. I'll see you later, than."

"I'm looking forward to it." An understatement, Ignis thinks as he says it.

"Bye then." 

And then he's gone, in the click of a phone line, leaving Ignis filled with dawning, delighted hope for the evening ahead.

\--

Prince Noctis -- Noctis, as he has insisted anew -- looks apologetic in the extreme.

"Sorry," he says, once again, as if he could possibly have anticipated the emergency that has left a puddle spanning the entire length of the ramen shop floor. "We can go somewhere else."

Ignis considers it, but Noctis had spent their brief stroll here singing the praises of the ramen place and the broth they use. It does smell very promising. And the shop isn't _closed_ , precisely -- a few brave souls are perched on the tall stools within, their shoes easily held aloft by the height of the stools. One woman's handbag dangles from a hook beneath the counter, the base of it perilously close to the puddle. These people haven't let simple water get in the way of their food. Why would he?

"No," he says, and gestures within. "It's fine."

"But your shoes--"

Ignis's shoes _were_ rather expensive, but it seems to be a shallow puddle. And Noctis -- clad in rather unremarkable black jeans and a lightly patterned dark grey shirt -- is wearing sneakers with very thick soles, so there's little risk of his shoes perishing either. "They're resilient enough," Ignis says, firmly.

"Alright." Noctis looks pleased at him for agreeing, and they brave the water and hoist themselves up onto two of the bar-style stools. The owner passes them menus, though after a quick perusal Ignis realises it's only to clarify the pricing -- there's only one type of ramen broth and one type of noodle for sale, though various extras may be added to the ramen. And there's an offer to add a plate of fried dumplings, for a little more.

Noctis nudges him. "Don't bother with the set menu," he says, in a voice that's very quiet. "The dumplings aren't worth it, and I know a _great_ waffle place for after so save space for that."

"Very well."

"Get a drink if you want, though." Noctis signals the owner. "I'd like my ramen with an extra egg, and please can I get a beer too?"

"Same again," Ignis says.

The owner bustles off, and Noctis plants both hands on the table. "So, um. I really don't do this. Asking people I don't really know out, I mean."

"Evidently you _do_ , or I wouldn't be here," Ignis points out. "And I'm delighted to be asked."

Noctis grins at him. "Yeah? You're about the most interesting person I've met in months. I couldn't just let you slip away."

"I… well. I'm flattered, but I confess I'm a little intimidated by your status."

"Oh." Noctis nods, as their beers are set down in front of them. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But it's really not a problem? Ravus and Luna are the only nobles I ever spend time with voluntarily as it is."

Ignis turns that over in his head. "Ah."

"So, I mean, nobody's going to be shocked at me taking you out for a meal." Noctis grins again. "Shocked that I got up the courage to ask out such a hottie, maybe."

How very flattering. Ignis dips his head, acknowledging the compliment. "Well then. Shall we toast, then, to your courage?"

"Here's to doing the thing," Noctis says, seriously, holding up his beer. "And hoping for the best."

They drink. The beer is actually a light lager, it transpires, somewhat to Ignis's relief, and as they set their glasses back down the owner comes over and places their ramen bowls carefully in front of them.

"Thanks!" Noctis says, and he plucks out chopsticks from the little dispenser in the counter. "Trust me. This stuff is good."

About fifteen seconds later, Ignis is rapturously agreeing. The broth is salty and rich, the noodles done to perfection, the pork so soft it's almost melting into the broth. Noctis is devouring his extra egg with obvious glee, and when Ignis tries his he can see why. Oh. Who'd have thought, a small and externally nondescript shop with a flooded floor, and yet serving a bowl of ramen as close to perfect as Ignis has ever tasted?

They eat without talking and with gusto, catching one another's eye and grinning in mutual appreciation at the food from time to time, and Ignis drains his bowl of the remaining broth afterwards so as not to waste a drop. He sets his bowl down, his stomach comfortably taut, and sighs.

"I told you," Noctis says, looking very pleased. "This place. Best noodles in Insomnia."

"If you're this au fait with excellent places to eat, I might have to up my training to compensate for the calories," Ignis says, and smiles. "And you said waffles after this? Thank heavens I don't have any more shows this week."

Noctis tips his head to one side and narrows his eyes. "Shit. I guess you have to think about diets and stuff all the time, huh."

"Actually, I fear I'm one of those dreadful people who eats as they want and suffers no consequences," Ignis admits. "But if I don't make a show of pretending to be concerned, my peers would quickly be resentful."

"Ha." Noctis smiles. "Good. I mean, I love food."

"As do I. I used to bake, but baking for one feels wasteful, and I can hardly take in pastries to the agency."

"Ignis, any time you feel like baking for me, I'll _gladly_ eat a whole tray of pastries. Promise."

Noctis's eyes are alight with humour and it makes Ignis feel bold. He smiles. "I may have to hold you to that sometime."

"Oh, please, please do."

It's an echo of what Ignis said, and oh, it's so sweet that he can't look away.

"Um, okay. I've got a walking route all planned out," Noctis says, as he finally glances over at the owner and breaks their eye contact. "So, let's settle up, and then, waffles."

They walk, through backstreets thronged with people, and Noctis leads Ignis down a spiral staircase that he hadn't ever realised connected to the cross-street below, and then along one of the main roads. There's a well-known waffle stall here, tucked in amongst the fashion stores, with a queue that stretches back halfway along the street.

Noctis leads them past it, to Ignis's surprise, and then down another little set of stairs, and then into one of the many commercial buildings around this part of Insomnia. Up a winding set of concrete staircases and then Noctis is pushing open a door, holding it, gesturing for Ignis to enter.

There's a little cafe in there, with scrubbed wooden tables and a huge picture window looking out over a bustling street outside. Ignis tries to orient himself; that's the main road they'd just walked along, seen from above. How does Noctis know somewhere like this exists?

They're swiftly seated together on a low-built-in bench that means their backs are against the giant window -- Ignis tries to ignore the eerie sensation that he's going to fall backwards through it -- and Noctis folds open the menu and points at the sylleblossom-flavoured waffle displayed on an inner page with a knowing look.

Flowers from Ignis's homeland, a place with closed borders, full of imperial soldiers. "But how?"

"I don't know. But you gotta try it. Luna says -- well, when it gets here, you just smell it."

Ignis picks it, and Noctis chooses an ulwaat flavour when the waitress asks him. That makes Ignis pick up and page through the whole menu properly; those two do still sound like the most tempting of the possibilities, but a lot of this looks Tenebraean in nature. Pagla pine moss, Zoldara fruit, duskberries that only really thrive on the shore of the Sathersea. Ignis feels a little bittersweet pang, then a stronger thrill of glee that such a cafe yet exists, with its no-doubt contraband ingredients. He'll have to get Noctis to give him the address, or better still, bring him here again.

The waffles come, and Ignis inhales, eyes closed.

Like most Tenebraean refugees, Ignis's whole family fled when the Empire invaded, just after the fateful day that led to the King only barely escaping with his son and the youngest generation of Nox Fleurets. Ignis had been young, not quite ten years old. His memories of Tenebrae have faded, supplanted by the vibrancy and immediacy of life in Insomnia these past thirteen years.

But this scent sparks a nostalgia in him, for quiet times in purple meadows high on a plateau far away from here. A place where his parents had been scholars and teachers, happy and respected cogs in the machine of their town. Ignis recalls, with startling clarity, being taken before the giant statue of Shiva in the airy grotto that was her temple, to receive her blessing, and that little spark of _something_ he'd felt standing there. He'd felt a sudden sense of scope and scale, that the universe was greater than he'd ever known before. That sense floods him again now, dizzying and almost holy.

Strange, the things one forgets.

Noctis is studiously digging into his own waffle when Ignis opens his eyes again.

Ignis reaches out his hand, touches Noctis on the back of his wrist, just below his shirt cuff. Noctis pauses in the middle of cutting a section of waffle free, and looks at him expectantly.

" _Thank you_ ," Ignis says, and it's not nearly enough.

Noctis gives him a little smile. "I figure all of you deserve a chance to taste home again, but the owner made me promise to only bring one of you at a time."

"I suppose it might be overwhelming if we _all_ rushed here to relive our memories." Ignis nudges his glasses back into place. "I hope it tastes as wonderful as it smells, but even if it doesn't--"

"I know. Worth it just for the smell."

The waffle _tastes_ amazing, too. Florals aren't Ignis's favourite sort of flavour, but this skirts the soapiness Ignis expects and is sweet and subtle. Ignis wonders how rude it would be to ask the owner where he gets sylleblossom extract or syrup from, and if Ignis can obtain some.

There's coffee, bought over as they near the end of their waffles, and the scent of it is a wonderful complement to the sugary waffle scent. Noctis cradles the cup in both his hands, lifts his feet up, sits cross-legged and leans back against the vast window. Outside, the sky has darkened, and Insomnia has come alive with vibrant neon lights that dazzle the eyes.

"I like it here," Noctis says, and he turns his head, looks down at the street below. "I didn't just bring you here because, you know."

Ignis nods, and takes another sip of his coffee.

"What was it like for you? Leaving Tenebrae?"

"I was young." Ignis gestures vaguely in the direction of the empty plates, now being removed by a member of staff. "So what I remember is fragmented. My parents, whispering to avoid worrying me. Packing, and leaving in the middle of the night, walking through the woods because the roads weren't safe."

"They left it that late?"

"My mother was pregnant. I think they hoped the baby would come early, so they could leave with a newborn baby instead of with my mother's ungainly belly."

Noctis sips his coffee, waits for Ignis to continue.

"My sister was born on a crowded, busy train. And I remember the train, remember that my mother was tired and pale." Ignis stirs his coffee, thoughtful. "My father traded our possessions for medicine, for help for my mother, but I was made rather a pet of by our carriage. I felt safe and cherished on that train."

"I'm glad. You were lucky."

"So I've heard. And we were one of the groups that were met at Galdin by the King's retinue."

"Oh?" Noctis looks intrigued. "Did you meet my Dad?"

"The King patted my sister on the head. There are photos of the moment. He told all of us that we'd be welcome, that Lucis would extend all the protection it could to keep us safe, and in return it asked only that we live like honest citizens." Ignis smiles. "I've still got my original Lucian paperwork somewhere."

Noctis's smile is fond. "Good. I hope we treated you well."

"In general? Superbly."

"You ever think of going back?"

Ignis raises an eyebrow. "To the Empire?"

"Well, what if the borders reopened?"

"I… that's never going to happen." Ignis shakes his head. "But no, I've no particular ties. I feel ties here, to Insomnia. It's my home, and your father is my king."

Noctis nods, and flashes him another grin. "Alright. Good."

"Did you -- you were in Tenebrae," Ignis says, and then he doesn't know what to say.

"I remember the sylleblossoms, and the towering willows, and the groves where the Oracle performed her magics," Noctis says, and then he sets down his cup. "And I remember the end, too, yes."

"Ah."

Noctis's face is solemn, but then his expression brightens, though it seems to take an effort. "But let's not talk about that, hm? Tell me something else -- I know, tell me how you became a model."

Ignis has learned how to make the anecdotes funny: being noticed because he was always reading in the same corner of the same bookstore, and after finding his covert bookmarks replaced with the same scout's business card a few times Ignis had finally turned one over to see 'oi, tall boy with specs, call me if you'd like to earn money with your face' scrawled on the back. 

At the time, his family had been -- and he considers, carefully, and chooses his words lightly -- a tad strapped for cash. So Ignis had accepted the offer, with the proviso he be allowed to complete his degree first.

And at his first casting call, Ignis had flubbed the audition entirely with his inability to follow simple instructions on facial expressions. He emulates himself, frowning when told to smile, and grimacing when told to frown. And yet Dino had _still_ given him a shot anyway. Presumably purely out of pity for the ungainly refugee with no money to his name.

Noctis grins at all the appropriate points, and then glances at his watch.

"But you must be a busy man," Ignis says. "Do I need to let you run off?"

"I… I would _love_ to say no, but I have to be up super early tomorrow." Noctis sighs, and sits up, taking his weight off the window. "But I really hope you'll let me take you out again."

They compare schedules, and there'll be a lunch date, in a few days.

"My treat, this time," Ignis says. 

Noctis's answering smile is pleased. "Of course. Anywhere you like. Just easy on the vegetables, I've a--" and he gestures vaguely to his own throat, "--texture thing."

Interesting. "Noted."

Noctis's hand drops, to the space between them on the bench. "And I really had fun tonight."

"I did, too." Ignis can take a hint, when it's so charmingly given, and he lets his hand cover Noctis's. The contact is exciting, makes all the hair on the back of Ignis's neck prickle up in a pleasant way. "Thank you for asking me."

A burly man with facial scars had entered the cafe a few minutes after Ignis and Noctis. Ignis had noticed him -- he seemed somehow familiar -- and had spared a brief second to wonder who came to a cafe like this alone. But it's not really a surprise when Noctis makes a gesture that the burly man acknowledges with a nod. Of course Noctis wouldn't be allowed out entirely unsupervised. And this bodyguard has been respectfully keeping enough distance that he probably wasn't even eavesdropping.

"That's my shield," Noctis says, almost absent-mindedly, his fingers twitching beneath Ignis's. "He'll call for a car to pick me up -- you want dropping off somewhere?"

Ignis shakes his head. There's a metro station visible from the window, perhaps a hundred metres west of them. "Not this time, but thank you."

"Alright." Noctis leans in, brushes his lips against Ignis's cheek. It's so fleeting it's almost an air-kiss, but it's also one of the most exhilarating moments in Ignis's recent life. Kissed by a Prince. A perfect end to a lovely evening. "I will see you soon."

"I can't wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (As before, it's going to be a couple of weeks before the next chapter goes up.)


	3. Chapter 3

Noctis sighs, and lets Luna retie his cravat for him.

"Attending another fashion show," she says, and gives him a very knowing look. "And you still owe me an event."

"I'm not here as _the Prince_ ," Noctis protests.

"You're always the Prince." She smooths down the front of his cravat. "Even if you're here in your capacity as beau to one of the models, your presence is going to draw some interest."

"I'll blame Ravus. Somehow."

Luna laughs. "Well. You won't be announced this time, at least. And I can sit somewhere else if you think that would make you less noticeable--"

"No, don't abandon me, please." Noctis reaches out, very gently pokes Luna in the cheek. "You're my ticket backstage, and I need you to give me delightful observations to parrot back afterwards."

"Because you'll be too busy ogling your boy, I know." Luna sighs, theatrically. "Alright. Come on. Follow me, sit down quietly, and ignore the stares."

"I _know_."

They're sitting a row back from the front row, and officially Noctis is here as Luna's plus-one rather than anything else. It's the biggest fashion show of the year and Ignis is in one of the early collections. Not that Ignis had made much of a fuss about the subject -- Noctis has only discovered that Ignis was in the show at all because Ignis couldn't schedule a date on this one evening of the week that Noctis had free, and then Noctis had had to go look up the schedules and beg Luna for another favour.

Noctis really likes the way Ignis looks when he's pleasantly surprised, so he's hoping his showing up will earn him a delighted smile and a few more charm points. They've been on a string of dates over the past month and a half, and so far Ignis doesn't seem to have decided Noctis is too intimidatingly 'royal' or too busy for him, but, well, that could change. Noctis thinks he should earn as much credit as he can while he can.

The show winds up to start, and then there's a lot of flashing lights and bassy beats and tall men striding purposefully down the catwalk in white, blinding white clothes. Noctis watches, as patiently as he can, and then lets himself watch Luna scribbling down notes on her programme -- _linen blends, impractical but beautiful drape, so flimsy, are these models wearing g-strings --_ and then he has to stop himself snorting out loud.

The next one is mostly long leather coats, in vibrant colours. Noctis likes this; bare chested models, ripped skinny jeans, coats he'd wear himself if he ever wore colours. Luna's notes say things about _breathability_ and _chafing_ , but, well, you wouldn't _really_ wear this without shirts underneath. Or maybe you would, if you were super fashionable? Noctis thinks about seeing random shirtless men around the fashionable parts of Insomnia, and decides it would be a two-edged sword: even if all the fashionistas were hot, it'd be hellishly distracting.

Luna pokes him in the ribs. "This one."

There's a lot of metallic green and blue and silver, sea-colours. The models are decked out in a lot of glitter everywhere and… Noctis squints… fake scales applied to their skin, and the overall effect is definitely _merman_. To Noctis's consternation, he can't immediately tell if Ignis is any of the men on the catwalk. The makeup is deceptive, as it's supposed to be. Noctis tries process of elimination. Obviously Ignis is not one of the ones with beards, and he's too tall to be the one with the blue talons, and two of the guys look too burly around the waist to be him, so… Noctis nods, suddenly recognising the precise curve of jaw. Ignis is in shimmering silver trimmed with blue, and what he's wearing is slashed down to the waist and up to the thigh, revealing a toned body and long muscular legs. He has metallic blue streaks in his hair, and greenish scales on his face that cover one eye, and he looks ethereal and dangerous and exotic.

Noctis tugs at his collar, suddenly feeling a little too warm. Wow. He's going to have to be careful about which shows he goes to if Ignis is going to look this appealing on stage.

Ignis does a very pretty little spin at the end, all the fabric flaring out around him, making Noctis's stomach do a delighted little flip of appreciation, and then he parades back off and out.

It takes a few more minutes for him to re-emerge, this time in dark, skin-tight gunmetal grey, with little frilly drapey bits of metallic fabric dangling off it here and there. Noctis swallows, hard; Ignis really does have very good legs, and a great ass as he pivots in those pants, and that's giving Noctis definite reactions he probably shouldn't have in public.

He glances at Luna's notes -- _a bit inconsistent as a whole, these would look awful on non-models, like the fabrics though --_ and then back at Ignis, as he struts back down the runway. It must be the end of this collection; the model after him is turning, but there's nobody to follow _him_.

"Not yet," Luna murmurs, as Noctis gets ready to get up. "He'll need time to take off all that makeup, you know. And I want to see this next designer's work."

Noctis slumps down into his seat. "Okay."

Luna, in fact, makes Noctis sit through _two_ more entire collections before they quietly leave their seats and head for the side-entrance. Everyone in Insomnia knows Luna -- or so it seems -- and everyone in the Insomnian fashion world seems to be willing to let her go anywhere she wants at shows like this. Noctis trails in her wake, a bit embarrassed. He could probably enter the backstage by using his own status, he knows, but this way involves fewer fanfares and escorts keen to explain things to him.

And Luna knows exactly how to navigate around the chaos that confronts them backstage, thankfully. There are people yelling, people crying, models up on little platforms having clothing adjusted, makeup areas and hairdressing areas and mirrors all over the place. Luna grabs his wrist and hauls him through it, weaving in and out of clusters of activity, saying hello and dropping little compliments as she goes, and then finally she pushes Noctis in front of her in a tiny alcove and along with a couple of other models there's Ignis, sitting on a stool that's too short for his long legs, in a sweatshirt and loose pants, busily rubbing his face with a pad and squinting at himself in a hand-mirror. His hair is still wet, slicked back probably just to keep it out of his face. Noctis, once again, mentally pinches himself. This is his _boyfriend_. How lucky is Noctis?

"Ignis," Noctis says, and Ignis actually jumps. "Sorry. But hi."

Ignis blinks, his eyes oddly vulnerable-looking without his glasses, and then he smiles. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." Noctis tucks his hands into his pockets. "Came to see you do your thing. It was great."

Ignis tosses the pad into a nearby bucket. "That's very sweet, but you've told me more than once you don't understand fashion of this sort."

"Well, no, but you were hot, I understand that." Noctis wonders if he's intruding, suddenly. He's sort of sprung himself on Ignis at work, maybe that's not cool. "But, um, I just wanted to come say hi. You probably have stuff to do, so I can leave you to--"

Ignis frowns at him. "After you came to see me? Don't be silly."

"Oh."

Ignis gets up, and extracts his glasses from his pocket. "Let me get my bag and pay my respects quickly to a few people, and I'm all yours." With his glasses on, Ignis looks far more like himself, even with the little traces of glitter still lingering around eye and temple. "Just wait here a moment?"

Luna slides her arm into the crook of Noctis's. "I'll keep him from bolting."

"My eternal gratitude, Lady Lunafreya."

It's only a few minutes -- during which Luna forces Noctis into exchanging pleasantries with the other models -- before Ignis returns, messenger bag slung across his chest and a garment bag draped over his arm. "I'm ready."

"Luna, you're welcome to have dinner with us," Noctis says, trying to telepathically communicate the fact that he really doesn't mean any such invitation at all.

Luna unhooks herself from Noctis, and pats him on the arm. "I'm staying. You two have fun."

"Alright then."

They're outside -- and Noctis is heaving in grateful deep breaths -- before Ignis asks, "did you have anything in mind for this evening?"

"Um." Noctis flounders a bit. "I… no, not really."

"Then would you like to come back to mine for coffee?"

Ignis is regarding him with those beautiful green eyes. And that was enough of a cliche that even Noctis can see this for the invitation it is: I like you, I'm attracted to you, I would like to do sexual things with you, come home with me.

And it's so tempting. Except they've not even kissed, and Noctis has sworn to himself that he'll take this whole relationship slowly. It feels important not to rush this.

"Only if that's actual coffee," Noctis says, apologetically. "I… it's a bit soon for euphemism coffee, sorry."

Ignis's eyes crease into that genuine smile of his. "I'm perfectly content with actual coffee. Shall we, then?"

It turns out that Ignis lives pretty centrally, in a little terrace of apartment buildings, and his apartment is on the top floor -- not a penthouse, unless the definition isn't what Noctis thinks it is, but just a home that happens to be on the top floor of the building. It's small, built into the eaves of the building, and full of shabby mismatched furniture, but it's very _ordered_ somehow and Noctis immediately likes it. It's unpretentious, he thinks, and when Ignis waves him towards a pair of threadbare chairs Noctis sits without hesitation.

"Coffee," Ignis says, and he's taking off his shoes, so Noctis starts unlacing his own boots. "What sort?"

"You have sorts?" 

"Within reason. I have instant and I have canned, but I can brew real coffee too -- only in a press, admittedly, but I've found a good bean blend. I even have a frother if you'd like something foamier."

Noctis grins. "Dazzle me with your coffee wizardry. I'll drink whatever you give me."

Ignis disappears through a little doorway, and Noctis shoves his boots over towards the front door and looks around properly. Two sets of good daggers, racked on the wall by the door. A skylight in the sloping room, with a view of the Citadel. Books on the shelves -- some fiction, but a lot of non-fiction on a surprisingly broad range of topics. A few framed pieces of art, bold figure sketch sort of things. Doors leading off, presumably to bedroom and bathroom. And the seat Noctis was in might be old, but it's comfortable.

The place doesn't feel like it belongs to a model, not that Noctis quite knows what he'd expect that to look like. More glamorous, maybe. But, well, Ignis has hinted that there'd been some family reason why he took modelling on -- money, Noctis guesses, though Ignis hasn't quite said so -- and this place looks like it belongs to someone who doesn't spend a lot of money on material possessions.

Good, Noctis thinks, almost absent-mindedly, then he's probably not after me for my money, and then he feels a bit guilty. Of course Ignis isn't after his money.

It's a long few minutes until Ignis reappears with a tray, on which is a little coffee press, two mugs, a jar of sugar and a metal jug full of what turns out to be steamed, frothed milk. He hooks a foot under the nearby octagonal table and yanks it in front of Noctis, and then puts the tray down carefully on top of it.

"I feel privileged, such a beautiful barista all for me," Noctis says, and leans forward. "Milk first? Or is that a faux pas with coffee? You'd think I'd know."

Ignis chuckles. "I won't tell anyone. But I think it's easier to judge the amount of milk if you put it in afterwards."

"Gotcha."

Ignis settles into the other chair, and crosses his long legs out in front of him. "You're the first guest I've had here, barring family," he says. "I've not lived here long."

"Really? It looks like you've settled in well, it -- well, it looks lived in, I guess."

"I'm enjoying my freedom. I was still at my parents' house, before -- inconvenient for everything." Ignis tips his head to one side. "I'm not even sure where you live. I know the Citadel isn't residential, but--"

"I'm not in the Palace, either. When I was about, uh, sixteen? Dad said, you really should learn how commoners live." Noctis shrugs. "I moved out into a little place of my own, and promptly realised I knew _nothing_ about how to live on my own. But I learned."

Ignis nods. 

"Recycling was the _worst_ ," Noctis says, and laughs. "I'm busy enough that now I have an excuse to hire someone else to clean my bathroom and kitchen a couple of times a week, and they sort the recycling and I never have to sit there going 'is this general waste or household waste' ever again."

"Sounds luxurious," Ignis says, but he's smiling widely. "You think you need an excuse to hire a cleaner. Sometimes you're very un-princely, Noct."

Noct. It's not an unusual way to shorten his name, but Noctis is pretty sure it's the first time Ignis has done it, and he feels pleased by the familiarity. "Not many other princes around, so 'princely' is whatever I decide it is," he points out.

"And so 'princely' becomes, let me see, intimately familiar with the best little dining spots in Insomnia, remarkably casual about his status, and willing to date a refugee after one brief conversation."

"You're a very pretty refugee," Noctis says. "And it was a very good conversation."

Ignis stretches, and then sits up, and plunges the coffee press. The coffee within is a deep, murky brown, and smells wonderful when Ignis pours some out into a mug. "Should I continue to barista for you, or would you rather serve yourself?"

"I'm easy."

Ignis raises an eyebrow, and Noctis nearly bites his tongue. No, he's no _t easy,_ or they'd be… snogging, probably, by now, at least, if not halfway to bed. But Ignis just pours out some coffee into the other mug, and tops it up with milk from the jug, and then presents the mug to Noctis with a little dip of his head.

It's _good_ coffee.

They sit in companionable silence as they drink, and then Noctis tips his head back. Above him on the wall are Ignis's daggers, glinting on their rack. "Nice blades," he says, because they _are_ \-- steel that looks high-grade, clearly kept sharp and well-oiled. The top pair have a curve, not quite kukris but definitely not straight knives either. "How good are you?"

"I'm hardly fit to judge myself."

"Licensed, though. So you've got to be pretty decent."

Ignis nods. "I've trained since I was a teen. After Tenebrae -- I think a lot of us welcomed the chance to learn defense."

"Yeah, so I've heard." Noctis sits up again, puts the cup down. "I felt the same way. I mean, I have advantages, but… you've heard about what happened, right? I was so helpless. My Dad carried me, until--" and he stops, and then charges forward with the worst part, "until the Queen sacrificed herself to give us time to get free, and then Ravus carried me, and all I could do was be a burden to them. Even Luna managed to pull it together enough to help my Dad's knee at the border. I was just… deadweight."

"You weren't a burden," Ignis says. "You were a child."

"I was. I mean. I _was_ a burden. And I decided then I had to get better. So as soon as I was able to walk again, I bullied people into training me in every weapon I could find a tutor for." Noctis picks his cup up again. "And now I can hold my own. I'm ready, if the Empire comes calling."

Ignis just looks at him, his expression hard to read.

"Not that I want them to. But it's good to be prepared. I don't want to feel useless ever again."

Ignis puts down his own cup, and then, to Noctis's surprise, pushes himself out of his chair, and goes down on one knee in front of Noctis. He plucks the cup out of Noctis's hands, and sets it on the table, and then takes both of Noctis's hands in his own. He's so close that Noctis can see the little traces of leftover makeup in Ignis's eyebrows.

"Um," Noctis says.

"You're an astonishing man," Ignis says, his hands tight around Noctis's. "I'm very lucky to be allowed to know you."

Noctis stares at Ignis's hands on his. "I'm just me," he protests.

"And I don't think you could ever be useless. Please don't ever call yourself that again."

"...well, I'll, uh. I'll try."

Ignis lifts their hands, and presses a kiss to the back of Noctis's left wrist. "Good."

He releases Noctis's hands, and within a few heartbeats he's settling back into his own chair, and Noctis is aware of the way his own heart is fluttering in his chest. In Noctis's experience, boyfriends start reconsidering whether they really want to be his boyfriend within a few weeks. The status, the cameras that Noctis either has to evade or ignore, the busy schedule allowing perhaps one date per week: it's hard work for anyone who dates Noctis.

But Ignis thinks he's _astonishing_.

"Come back here," Noctis says, and his voice sounds weird, but Ignis does as he's asked anyway, kneeling in front of Noctis.

The kiss is flavoured with coffee, and Ignis's hands rest uncertainly on Noctis's knees, and Noctis's hands are threaded into Ignis's hair, and when they pull apart Noctis's heart has gone from a hum to a steady, strong pounding that's echoed in the pulse of arousal in his groin. Ignis's eyes open slowly, and he lifts a hand to stroke Noctis's cheek.

"Oh," he says.

"You're pretty astonishing too," Noctis says, and he withdraws his hands. "I think I wanna keep you around."

"I sincerely hope you do." And that smile, that pleased smile, stays on Ignis's face even as he returns to his own chair a second time.

\--

"When am I gonna meet him?"

Prompto's sprawled out on Noctis's sofa, and Noctis has been catching him up on the wonder that is Ignis Scientia, model, coffee maker, lovely human being with glorious accent and killer cheekbones. He probably sounds like a total sap, but Prompto seems just amused.

"I… dunno. You know my schedule's all over the place, and he seems busy a lot too, and--"

"Dude. Pick a night. You don't work _that_ late, find one he's free, I'll be there. Even if it's midnight, even if I only meet him for an hour."

Noctis grins. "Alright, I'll find an hour."

It's not unreasonable. Prompto is Noctis's dearest friend, and while they've had a few ups and downs -- the one year they co-habited at university was a definite low point -- Prompto has _always_ had Noctis's back, has always been there to pick up the pieces when Noctis has been broken by a breakup. Noctis is honest with himself: he'd be a very different person without Prompto there to be a _buddy_ in his teens. Prompto made Noctis aware of what friendship should be like, of what it looked like when someone liked you in spite of your status instead of because of it.

And Noctis is proud of Prompto. He's come a long way from the shy, twitchy kid whose main passion was photos of the animals he met between the school and his house. These days Prompto has a job he's great at, and hobbies he's enthusiastic about, and, well, _fans_. Prompto is, in Noctis's opinion, pretty cool.

Noctis can't _wait_ for him to meet Ignis.

Still, he wasn't joking about his schedule. In the end the only time he can clear two hours that Ignis is also able to meet up is late one evening, in a little Galahd-style bar on a terrace in the centre of Insomnia. Noctis gets there at 11pm, and sends a little mental thank-you note to his father for having extended the legal licensing laws a decade earlier. They won't have to cut this too short.

Prompto and Ignis have found each other already, slightly to Noctis's surprise, and are chatting amicably over two beers. Prompto is gesturing, clearly describing something, and Ignis looks interested in whatever it is.

Noctis stands there, in the shadow of the doorway, and just watches for a moment. Thank god. Not that there'd be any reason for them to dislike each other on sight, but still, people sometimes just don't take to one another.

When he steps into the light, Ignis's eyes immediately snap to his, and the smile makes Noctis feels a little giddy.

Or maybe that's the exhaustion. He's been awake since before dawn this morning for meetings, and then in the afternoon there'd been a gas explosion up on the northern edge of the city. Noctis can warp people in and out if he's touching them -- and he's getting better and better at doing it -- so he'd spent a while roaming a collapsing office building to check for people trapped inside, and then had warped them out. Once everyone had been accounted for, it'd seemed obvious to pitch in with the healing, but now, now Noctis suspects he might have overdone it a _bit._ He'd been half-asleep at the emergency council session afterwards, for a start.

He slips into the booth seat next to Ignis, and Prompto waves at the bar staff to bring over another beer for him.

"You look like hell," Prompto says, and frowns. "Overworking you again, huh."

"Something like that."

"It's fine. We'll just keep talking about you while you doze off."

Noctis sits up straighter, smiles up at the bartender, and gives Prompto a warning look. "Don't you dare."

"So I've got _tons_ of dirt on this guy," Prompto says to Ignis. "Baby photos, things he's said in his sleep, the lot."

Ignis laughs. "I've seen the baby photos."

"Nah, you've seen the ones they put in the papers. I've got the _awful_ ones they wouldn't release."

Noctis slumps against Ignis's arm, rests his head on Ignis's shoulder, as if giving in. "Don't bully me, I'm tired."

"If you'd rather we reschedule," Ignis begins, and like this Noctis can feel how Ignis's voice resonates through his body, "then I'm sure we can find a time when you're not falling asleep against me."

"Mm." Noctis raises his eyebrows at Prompto, instead. "So, you. How's work?"

"Huh?"

"Tell Ignis what you do, sheesh."

"Oh, ha. I work in a garage, the Hammerhead branch in the city? Begged the boss there to give me a chance after I finished high school."

Noctis slides his hand onto Ignis's knee, under the table. "He's really good at it."

"I got a knack for machines," Prompto says airily, and then he pauses and glances over at Noctis. "You want me to tell him the rest, right?"

"You don't have to."

"No, I will." Prompto fumbles in his pocket, pulls out his phone. "I also do videos, online? I get some money that way."

Ignis makes an interested noise. "Videos of what?"

"Cosplay. I do a lot of that, and then tutorials for how I do it, and photoshoots and, well. Yeah." Prompto is smiling, thankfully, as if he's looking forward to his own punchline. "This is me."

Ignis takes the phone, and examines the screen. Noctis tips his head so he can see: Prompto, in a tight-fitting strapless red dress that flares out at his hips, a decolletage that would be baffling if Noctis hadn't seen Prompto tape and boost the hell out of his chest before, and makeup that transforms his face into a knowing, attractive woman. A dark blue wig finishes it, curling around his bare shoulders. Prompto, as Lenia Cabochon from the popular series of the same name, in one of the outfits he's gotten a ton of attention for.

"Gosh," Ignis says, and then he lifts the screen closer. "That's impressive. Do you make your own clothing?"

"No, I commission them -- too busy, and I'm not good at sewing really--"

"Bullshit," Noctis says lazily.

"But I styled the wig, and did my own makeup, and all that." Prompto gestures to the phone. "That's what I do for fun."

"It's very good work," Ignis says, and then he's swiping through the folder. Prompto does lots of different girl costumes, and there's a spectrum of looks -- older, younger, sex kitten, young ingenue, fresh-faced athlete, villainess. Ignis makes a few more noises, and then looks up. "You really do all your own makeup? This is very good work. And I mean that professionally."

Prompto looks delighted, and Noctis squeezes Ignis's knee under the table.

"I'm not surprised you have a following," Ignis says, handing the phone back. "People must want to copy your techniques."

"Yeah, the tutorials draw a lot of people in. Though these days I do a lot of social streaming too, you know, just sitting on the feed and talking to the comm, and sometimes the makeup or whatever is just an excuse."

Noctis lets the two of them talk for a while -- mostly about Prompto's upcoming plans, and Ignis's experience of walking in high heels for some fashion show, and makeup brands -- and it's not exactly _boring_ but he's so tired that his attention keeps wandering. He shifts his head's position on Ignis's shoulder, trying to stop himself from actually falling asleep.

"Oh, and, uh. If you see stuff in the papers about Noct and girls…"

Ignis makes an 'aha' noise. "I have seen that, yes."

"Always," Noctis says, and his voice sounds sleepy even to himself. "Even though they know I'm gay. They still think Prompto's like fifty different girls I'm somehow not gay for."

"You'd think they'd at least notice it's the same… girl."

Prompto laughs. "I take it as a compliment, you know?"

"I suppose it's flattering that they're confounded by your versatility." Ignis clears his throat, and then his arm is around Noctis's waist, in a gesture more of concern than of affection. "Noct? Are you alright? You're not usually this…"

"Floppy," Prompto supplies. "Dude, you do look more out of it than usual."

Noctis is going to protest, but there's a yawn bubbling up through his diaphragm, and he only just stifles it. "I'm fine," he says. "But yeah, long day."

"Your car outside?"

"Probably."

Prompto makes a dismissive gesture. "Then go, shoosh. Go home. We can hang another day when you're not falling into your beer."

"But--"

"It's fine. I've vetted your man -- so far, so good--"

Ignis chuckles.

"And _you_ are dead on your feet. Go home." And then, to Ignis, "There'll be a car outside -- Citadel decals, buff tattooed guy looking bored in the front seat. That's his ride home. It'll get him back safe. If you can't spot it, get Noct to text for one."

"Very well." Ignis's arm tightens around Noctis's waist, and then he's half-lifting Noctis out of his seat. "Come on, Noct."

"But--" And Noctis gestures at the beers, still on the tab at the bar.

"Uh-uh," Prompto says, and he's grinning as he waves at the bartender. "This one's on me, and Ignis, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Certainly."

Gladio's in the car outside, and the gust of cold air as they exit the bar both wakes Noctis up a little.

"I got him," Gladio says, getting out of the car. "You need a lift too?"

"...no, I can walk," Ignis says, and he's ignoring Gladio's outstretched arm and opening the door for Noctis himself, bless him.

Noctis grabs for Ignis's wrist, as Ignis makes a low, bowing gesture to indicate that Noctis should get into the car. "Hey, come on, I already know where you live. We'll drop you off."

There's a moment where Noctis thinks Ignis is going to say no again, but then he seems to give up on his protest, and instead follows Noctis into the back of the car. It's one of the standard diplomatic sedans, and Gladio's got the screen down as he usually does. Noctis leans against Ignis's shoulder, and lets out a sigh as Ignis takes his hand.

He knows it's a little unfair of him to use Prompto -- even with Prompto's permission -- as some kind of test, but, well. If a boyfriend of his can't handle the unconventionality of Prompto's hobbies, they'll freak out hard when faced with the reality of Noctis's life and powers. But Ignis didn't seem at all fazed.

"Prompto's very nice," Ignis says, as they pull away. "Not what I expected, naturally."

"Yeah, I bet."

Ignis rests his head against Noctis's. "The prince's best friend is a cross-dressing mechanic. Once again you defy my expectations."

"Yup. He's my best friend and all my girlfriends." Noctis feels much more alert now, and with the alertness comes a warm appreciation for being pressed up to his lovely boyfriend like this. "And he likes you, so that's good."

"I'm glad."

"And I like you too." Noctis curls his hand around Ignis's upper arm. "Don't go home -- come to mine. Please?"

A pause, and then Ignis's other hand comes up to cover Noctis's. "How could I possibly say no?"

"Then it's settled."

Noctis lifts his head, and Ignis is right there and very kissable, and _oh_ , Noctis definitely wants Ignis to come home with him tonight. Noctis vaguely registers the hum of the privacy screen going up -- good -- and with the darkened windows to hide them from view and no chance of even Gladio seeing them, they keep kissing right up until Gladio makes a loud coughing noise and announces that they're at Noctis's place.

Noctis ignores his probably-totally-obvious-to- _everyone_ erection and tows Ignis inside, past the guards, and straight into the lift.

If the lift attendant hadn't been there, Noctis might well have just shoved Ignis against the wall right then to keep kissing him. As it is, he holds tight to Ignis's hand, feels Ignis's thumb rubbing against his palm in a gentle caress, and grits his teeth impatiently. Even the lock to his apartment seems determined to be in the way, but he manages to get them both into his place and the door closed behind them before he pulls Ignis into another kiss.

Which is broken by Noctis's stupid body deciding it can't hold down a huge yawn, and that makes his whole body -- well, excepting one specific part -- go all limp and exhausted on him, so he wobbles on his feet.

"I think," Ignis says, his hands now supporting rather than caressing Noctis's torso, "that you're a little too tired for this today."

Noctis wants to object. He _really_ wants… well, what he really wants is to just curl up in bed with Ignis, cuddle up, and go to sleep. But it's not exactly a thing he can ask, is it? Especially when he can't even lie in late and make up for it the next morning. "Ah… yeah. Maybe. Sorry."

"It's alright," Ignis says, and he's leading Noctis over to the sofa. "I can make my own way home."

"Thanks."

"And I'll call you tomorrow." Ignis presses a kiss to Noctis's forehead, and lets Noctis slump into the sofa. "Rest up, Noct."

"I will. Get home safe, okay?"

Ignis lets himself out, clicks the door behind him.

Noctis manages to check he still has his alarm set for an early hour, and -- lacking the energy to even make it to the bedroom -- lets himself fall sideways on the sofa, tugging a cushion under his head. Yeah. He'd be no fun at all to Ignis tonight. They can have their first time another day.


	4. Chapter 4

It's not precisely a walk of shame, but it is embarrassing to travel down in the lift again with the attendant looking conspicuously elsewhere as if surprised Ignis is returning home.

But Noctis had been in no shape to really even stay awake for a conversation, let alone sex. Ignis knows, vaguely, that Noctis is usually very busy, has a full schedule, but of course the details of that are often not something Noctis can disclose. Still, that had been true exhaustion. Poor Noctis.

Ignis steps out onto the pavement outside the building, and heaves in a deep breath. Well then. Time to locate the metro station. Ignis doesn't know this area very well, and the dampness in the air means it's threatening to rain, but--

"Ignis!"

Ignis turns, and sees the tattooed, muscular man that serves as Noctis's shield. He's leaning out of the car window, his hand raised to signal at Ignis. "Yes?"

"You, uh. Need a ride home?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Ignis says, as raindrops start to spot the pavement. "But thank you."

"Hey, least I can do is get you home without you getting soaked." The back door pops open by about an inch, presumably triggered by some remote switch inside the car. "C'mon."

Ignis glances upwards, and then gives up on dignity and gets in the damned car.

They putter along, in the surprisingly heavy traffic, for a few minutes, and then the man clears his throat. "You don't recognise me, do you?"

That implies Ignis should know this man, over and above his position in Noctis's life, but Ignis draws a blank. "Sorry, I--"

"We were at school together. You were in the defense class with me. I'm Gladiolus. Amicitia."

Oh, heavens. Ignis squints at the face in the rear-view mirror. The Gladiolus he remembers in high school had short-cropped hair, an unscarred face, and no tattoos, but-- "my apologies," he says, all the same. "You have changed somewhat."

"Yeah, I ain't offended you don't recognise me, don't worry." Gladiolus grins up at the mirror for a moment. "Gave me a hell of a start when Noct first showed up with you on his arm, though."

"I imagine it must have." Someone Ignis had been in school with had risen through the ranks of the Crownsguard fast enough to be Prince Noctis's personal bodyguard? Ignis fights down a burst of envy. "How long have you been Noctis's shield?"

"Basically straight out of school." Gladiolus glances up at the mirror. "My Dad's the King's shield. I've been training to be Noct's all my life."

Well, that takes some of the sting out of it. "I see."

"I remember you were gonna be Crownsguard," Gladiolus adds, unexpectedly. "Highest scores of any applicant in like a decade. Cor was pissed when you dropped out. What happened?"

"Life rather got in the way."

"Huh. You ever thought about signing up again?"

Every day, Ignis thought. "I was considering it, but what with my relationship with the Prince, I thought it might be… awkward."

Gladiolus made a thoughtful noise as they switch lanes in the traffic. "Mm. Not really? I mean, a bit. But you wouldn't get any special treatment just for being his date."

"I see."

"You know, the current recruitment cycle ends this week. You miss this deadline, it's another year until the next cycle."

Ignis frowns at Gladiolus's reflection. "You seem surprisingly invested in this."

"Well, alright, cards on the table here: Cor and I went through your background check when you and Noct hooked up, and he gave me an earful about letting the best candidates slip out of our grasp." Gladiolous shrugs. "And besides, his Highness just cockteased the hell out of you, so I figure you need distracting."

"He didn't 'cocktease' me in the slightest. I wasn't expecting to stay the night," Ignis says, not entirely truthfully. "I was just getting him home safely."

"Yeah, because 'come home with me' and epic makeout sessions back there don't give off any signals at all." Gladiolus snorts, and then swings the car round to the right around a sharp bend. "But good on you for being nice about it."

"I'm not being--"

"Yeah, sure you're not." 

They lapse into silence, and Ignis thinks: Noctis wasn't teasing at all. What Noctis was doing was not thinking with his head when he'd asked Ignis back, perhaps because he was very tired. And Ignis is _glad_ that Noctis felt like he could decline to follow through on the suggestion.

At least, most of Ignis is glad.

"Hey," Gladiolus says, a few minutes later, "you live around here, right?"

Ignis peers out of the darkened window. The street he lives on is half a block away. "Yes, thanks -- I can walk from here."

"Alright. See you soon. Don't let his Highness get in the way of you joining up, okay?"

"Thanks. I'll consider it."

\--

Ignis's phone blips at about 8am, just as he's about to get into the shower.

_Hey so so sorry about last night, total dick move on my part_

Oh.

_It's perfectly alright,_ Ignis sends back. _You seemed exhausted. Are you feeling better now?_

_I was but shit, even so. Mixed messages. Not cool._

Ignis wonders if Gladiolus scolded Noctis on his behalf. He hopes not. He stares at his screen for a bit, and then just writes out exactly what he's thinking. 

_Don't apologise. You aren't obliged to sleep with me. You can always say no. It is always ok for you to change your mind._

There's a long, long pause, in which Ignis wonders if Noctis is going to accuse him of protesting too much.

_Goddamn I swear you're the sweetest man I've ever met. Are you free tonight? I'll be out at 7pm._

_I can be free,_ Ignis replies. _Tell me where and when_.

'Where' turns out to be in Noctis's flat. Noctis has ordered delivery food, and set up a dining table with candles, and he's dressed up in smart trousers and a neat black shirt, and Ignis suspects the whole evening is somewhat of an apology. Which is unnecessary, Ignis thinks, but perhaps letting Noctis get it out of his system is a good idea.

It's also nice to reconfirm his first opinion of Noctis's apartment as he enters, which is modern and comfortable but also reasonably modest, Ignis thinks, considering Noctis's status. Two of the doors off the main room are open, revealing a kitchen in one and a study mostly dominated by a huge desk in the other. Noctis is clearly not a tidy person by nature, to judge from the scattering of delivery boxes and bags in the darkened kitchen, and what Ignis can make out of the desk surface looks like an exercise in narrowly-avoided chaos, but the place feels like it could belong to any relatively-successful young man living alone.

The dinner is good -- Accordan fish, carefully prepared and spiced, and sides of fresh vegetables that Ignis is amused to note that Noctis mostly ignores -- and there's soft string music playing and the candlelight flatters Noctis's pretty features as they eat. Noctis is full of anecdotes tonight, stories about other people being brave or clever, sometimes at Noctis's expense, and after a while Ignis stops listening to the names and tries to deduce the overall picture Noctis is painting here. It's self-deprecating. Almost a warning, he supposes, in that Noctis seems keen to portray himself as frivolous or ditzy in comparison to other people.

Except that Noctis is neither of those things.

He takes Noctis's hand, effectively cutting across Noctis's current story. "I still think you're astonishing."

"I--" and Noctis looks embarrassed, to Ignis's surprise. "I'm not that special, really."

"You are to me." Ignis shifts his seat closer to Noctis's, and lifts his other hand to cup Noctis's jaw. "Last night didn't change my opinion of you."

"...okay."

Noctis leans in for the kiss that follows, and it's a slow, intimate kiss that leaves Ignis's body thrumming with faint arousal, even as Noctis pulls away and returns his attention to the food on his plate.

"So," Noctis says, a few mouthfuls later. "I've been talking about me for ages. What about you?"

"I spent most of today in weapons training," Ignis admits. "I was feeling a tad rusty, and my master was willing to let me help tutor in his basic and intermediate classes."

"See, yeah, I was thinking about why it seemed weird, and, I mean -- shouldn't you avoid stuff that might end up with you, I dunno, hurt?"

"I suppose so, but Master Dino approves of us having athletic hobbies. It keeps us in shape. Besides, I _am_ good enough not to injure myself most of the time."

Noctis grins at him. "I bet you're hot when you fight."

"Why?"

"You're hot all the time. Just saying." It's a very cute grin, so Ignis sets down his fork and kisses Noctis again. This time Noctis grabs hold of Ignis's shirt, so he can't pull away, and Ignis decides that the dinner can go cold if he's going to get kissed this enthusiastically instead.

"This isn't about yesterday," Noctis says, when Ignis has to stop just so he can snatch down some air, "but I was hoping you'd stay tonight."

Ignis is not above being a tad arch on this subject. "You're certain you won't fall asleep on me?"

"I do also have super fancy coffee for after dinner," Noctis says, and he looks amused rather than apologetic now, thankfully. "I figure, a little caffeine, a little kissing, we'll see how things go."

"A capital plan."

Noctis lets go of Ignis's shirt, sits up, and blinks down at his plate, where the candlelight is making it look shadowed and strange. "You wanna skip straight to the smooching? I'm game if you are."

"Eat up," Ignis advise. "I rather think you'll need the energy."

Noctis's eyes widen, and then he smiles, and scoops up a large forkful of his fish. "On it."

It becomes somewhat of a race to clear their plates, and then Noctis grabs Ignis's plate and swoops off into the kitchen with it. "Coffee," he calls over his shoulder, and the brightness of the lights that flare on in the kitchen makes Ignis fear for Noctis's retinas. "Go take a seat, I'll bring it out."

Ignis relocates, as instructed, to the sofa, with the candlesticks. There's a gas fire in the grate that the sofa faces, and after a brief inspection Ignis locates the on button. There. Firelight, to match the candles.

The coffee Noctis brings him smells perfect, and when Ignis risks burning himself with a sip it tastes good too, rich and smooth. He closes his eyes and appreciates the scent and flavour for a moment. Fancy coffee, indeed.

"Does it pass muster?"

"It does. And I must say, a royal barista is a rare treat."

Noctis shifts in closer, so their thighs connect from hip to knee. "I'll even make more in the morning if you want, before I go to work."

"There's no need to sweeten the pot, Noct, I'm already staying."

Noctis leans against his side, and seems content, and sips at his own coffee. Ignis feels the weight of possible admissions heavy on his tongue -- that he's never actually been to bed with a man before, for instance, or that one of the other things he did with his day was put in his reapplication for the Crownsguard -- but right now is quiet companionship, and warm hazy arousal, and flickering firelight, and coffee. Those things can wait.

Especially once the coffee is drunk, and Noctis turns to regard him with eyes that show nervousness and anticipation at once.

The kissing starts slow and tentative, but Noctis seems keen to accelerate things; he draws one knee up underneath him on the sofa, turns his whole body into the kiss, caresses Ignis's hair and face. It's not so very long before Ignis lets his hands go to Noctis's shirt buttons, and Noctis helps him fling the shirt sideways to the further arm of the sofa.

Ignis might never have bedded a man, but he's kissed a few before, and it's not so unfamiliar to let his hands roam across Noctis's shoulders, then down to some surprisingly prominent scars, and then to draw Noctis even closer by his waist, until he's straddling Ignis's lap and clutching at Ignis's hair.

Noctis's neck is eminently kissable, and he seems to take pleasure in that kissing from the way he tips his head back and makes little pleased noises. Ignis lets his mouth drift, takes it slow, enjoys the way Noctis's hips are grinding back and forward just a little in response.

"Bed," Noctis says, his hands going to Ignis's collar. "Please?"

"Lead the way."

Noctis's bedroom is one of the closed doors. Ignis barely registers anything about the room except for the wide bed and the nightstand next to it that he shoves his glasses onto. Noctis's hands are steady as they make quick work of Ignis's buttons, and then he's pulling Ignis onto the bed and oh, _oh_ , he climbs on top of Ignis, straddles him, pins him down gently with both hands and begins to mouth at Ignis's jaw and neck, little biting kisses that make Ignis's skin prickle with arousal.

"Noct," Ignis manages, when Noctis stops and lifts his head. "We're still overdressed."

It's not hard to fix that, although Noctis seems a little body-shy, and they end up under the sheets once their clothing is off. Noctis has beautiful, silken skin everywhere that isn't those scars on his back. Ignis slides down under the sheet to kiss more of that skin, letting whimsy guide him. He discovers sparse dark hairs on Noctis's lean chest, matched by the line of hair that leads downwards from his navel.

And below that, though he kisses his way sideways onto the junction of Noctis's hip instead of letting his mouth drift straight towards it, is Ignis's first ever _personal_ experience with another man's erection. It's more exciting than intimidating, to Ignis's faint relief, and he blows out a little stream of cool air along it just to see how it bobs and twitches in response.

"Hnn," Noctis says, and when Ignis glances upwards he can see Noctis watching him avidly. "Ignis--"

A quick, darting lick up the length rewards Ignis with a groan of arousal from Noctis, and then he sets about _exploring_. Noctis seems sensitive everywhere Ignis touches with hand and mouth, including his balls, and after Ignis has run the flat of his tongue up Noctis's cock for the third time he's a little startled to feel Noctis's hands clenching into his hair and tugging him back up the bed.

"Damn, you're a tease," Noctis says, and kisses him briefly. "Can I -- uh, is it okay if we--"

Whatever Noctis wants right now , Ignis is happy to oblige. "Yes."

Noctis actually laughs. "Wow, let me ask first. Um. So. I want to have you, but if you don't like that then that's fine, it's just that I--"

"I'm yours." Ignis feels a delighted thrill travel up his spine; this is what he wants, too, or at least what he's wanted in his fantasies so far, and Noctis taking the lead means he doesn't have to work out how to ask for it.

They kiss for a while longer, Noctis's hands tight on Ignis's upper arms, and then Noctis rolls away to rummage in his nightstand. Ignis wonders if now, now is the time when he should confess his inexperience, but then Noctis is back, a pleased smile on his face, and somehow everything from then feels so _natural_ and logical that Ignis rather forgets there's anything to confess. Noctis has gentle fingers, and he clearly knows what he's doing, and he keeps asking Ignis if things feel good until Ignis says, shakily, that everything feels good and he'll be sure to tell Noctis if that changes.

And oh. Nothing in Ignis's careful prior experimentation has quite prepared him for how it would feel to have someone else inside him, someone whose pace and thrusts aren't within his control, and Ignis discovers that he is _noisy_ like this, unable to stifle the grunts and gasps Noctis provokes with his movements. And since he's being noisy anyway, he lets himself vocalise his desire, tells Noctis he wants more, faster, deeper. Noctis does as he's told; it's urgent, fierce, and _splendid_.

Ignis loves every moment of it, loves the half-formed swear words that Noctis mutters with each roll of his hips, loves stretching his arms above his head to show himself off shamelessly, loves the feel of the pillow squished beneath his back, loves the way Noctis's hands grip on his thighs and hips and lift him upwards to meet each thrust, loves the way Noctis's eyes keep snapping back to watch the place where they're joined. It feels utterly exultant when he climaxes over his own hand, and he clings to Noctis with his legs as Noctis shudders through his own release.

Noctis falls, heaving in deep breaths, onto the bed next to him after disposing of the condom.

"Damn," he says. "That was -- I mean, wow."

"Quite."

"It was good for you too, right?"

Ignis chuckles, weakly, and manages to turn onto his side so he can drape an arm across Noctis. "Was I not enthusiastic enough to convince you?"

Noctis inches a little closer, his eyes alight with happiness. "You're incredible."

"As are you." Ignis stretches. He can definitely feel where Noctis has been, a sort of stretch and pull in the nerve endings. "Are you always so vigorous?"

"I dunno, are you always so demanding?"

"I might be. I'll let you know."

Noctis inches even closer, bends his head, presses his forehead into Ignis's shoulder. Ignis tightens his arm, dips his chin so he can kiss the top of Noctis's head, lets his thumb brush back and forth along Noctis's side. They stay like that for a while, as Ignis's heartbeat evens out.

And then Noctis yawns, and shifts, lifting his chin so Ignis can see his face again. "Mm. You good?"

"Very."

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth and stuff." Noctis stretches, and pulls away, and sits up. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"

While Noctis is out of the room, Ignis reclaims his glasses and smooths out the somewhat rumpled bedlinen. Noctis's bedroom, he notices, feels a bit uncluttered compared to the rest of Noctis's apartment. Clean surfaces on all the furniture, bar a little statuette on the nightstand and an amusingly oversized alarm clock. A little too tidy, Ignis realises, and hard on the heels of that thought comes the realisation that Noctis probably tidied up his bedroom in the hope that Ignis would end up in it tonight.

It's a warm, flattering thought.

Noctis returns, wrapped in a thin dressing gown, and stands in the door. "There's a spare toothbrush on the sink," he says. "And I've got some lotion and stuff in the cabinet. I mean, you probably have a whole skincare routine I'm ruining, but--"

"I'm sure my skin will survive one night of neglect."

Noctis grins. "Then go freshen up."

There is indeed a spare toothbrush, individually wrapped with a tiny toothpaste tube in the same plastic wrapper. Ignis -- since he has permission -- rummages in Noctis's bathroom cabinet, and finds a rather sorry selection of half-used moisturiser samples next to an impressive selection of hair styling products. Ignis ends up picking a sample packet that at least smells nice, and hopes that he's right that his skin will fare just fine without his usual ablutions.

Back in Noctis's bedroom, Noctis is waiting in the bed, under the sheet, head already on the pillow. Ignis slips in next to him, and Noctis immediately wraps an arm around him and pulls him in close. They kiss, again, a slow and intimate slide of lips and tongues, and then Noctis draws back.

"Mm. Much more of that and we're not gonna get _any_ sleep tonight," he says, smiling.

Ignis chuckles. "Would that be a problem?"

"Wow, you really are demanding, huh."

"Possibly." Ignis smiles, amused. "I mean, I'd never done it before, but if it's always that good, I'm going to be _very_ keen."

Noctis's eyes go wide, then narrow into disbelief as he inspects Ignis's face. "You… what?"

"I'll be very--"

"I mean, you… really? Never?" Noctis shakes his head a little. "But you _must_ have."

"I think I'd recall. I've slept with women, and kissed men, but somehow never, well--" And Ignis shrugs, as best he can lying down. "Is it a problem?"

"No, I just… and you weren't worried? Scared?"

What an absurd idea. "Why would I be?"

"In case it hurt or wasn't fun or… I dunno, you just seemed really sure how you wanted it, and if I'd known I'd have been gentler, and--"

Noctis looks genuinely contrite, and Ignis can't really see why he should. "I'm not a complete innocent. I've tried things out. Toys and so forth. I mean, you're rather more, ah, generously-sized than what I've experimented with, admittedly, but--"

"Oh my god."

"Noct, I assure you, it was wonderful."

"Alright." But the tone is unconvinced.

"Did you not just hear me say I wanted more?" Ignis lifts a hand, caresses Noctis's jaw. "Please?"

Noctis has beautiful eyes, expressive and honest, and so Ignis can see that Noctis is only half-convinced, but Ignis kisses him again nonetheless. And to his relief, Noctis seems to throw off his concerns quite quickly, letting the mutual desire between them spiral and escalate anew.

"Do you want--"

" _Please._ "

Presumably as a result of his new-found knowledge, Noctis is, this time, gentler and less urgent in his passion. What transpires is, Ignis thinks, more akin to love-making than the desperate coupling of earlier. It's marvellous in a very different way, Noctis's mouth either against Ignis's neck or Ignis's face, soft whispers of assurance between them, slow and deliberate thrusts that make Ignis grunt and gasp his responses as he lifts his hips to meet each one.

Ignis's orgasm is a slow and steady succession of spasms, so prolonged it almost embarrasses him. Noctis continues his slow pace in the wake of Ignis's climax, and he makes a beautifully sweet, soft noise when he finally comes, his pace suddenly turning staccato and uncontrolled as his face contorts. It sends a little extra thrill of delight through Ignis, that Noctis can find such pleasure in him.

"That was also very acceptable," Ignis observes once it seems permissible, with Noctis heavy on top of him and slackening inside him. He gets a little huff of amusement in response, and then Noctis lifts himself off and out and away. 

Once cleaned up, they end up in a comfortable, intimate sprawl of tangled limbs in the dark. Noctis keeps kissing whatever part of Ignis is closest, as if he's still uncertain despite everything.

"I'll be feeling you all tomorrow," Ignis murmurs, shifting his hips to emphasise where he means. "It's going to be both torment and bliss, I suspect."

"Well, now I'm going to be thinking about _that_ all day long, so at least you won't be suffering alone." Noctis's arm, across Ignis's belly, shifts to pull him into a tighter embrace. "And I'm a clingy sap, so can I see you tomorrow? I won't finish up meetings until about nine or so, but if you don't mind late dinner?"

And bed, after it, Ignis thinks, pleased. "Come to my flat. I'll cook."

Noctis sighs, as if deeply contented. "Damn. I'm one lucky guy, you know that?"

"It's strange," Ignis says. "That I'm here with you. I keep expecting to be told it's not allowed, that I'm not supposed to be dating _you_."

"Yeah?" Noctis shifts, again. "Why not?"

"A host of reasons."

"Mm."

"You know, I put in an application to join the Crownsguard today?"

Noctis pulls away, slightly. In the darkness, Ignis can just about make out the way Noctis is looking at him, as if deciding how to respond.

"Not because of being with you. Or, not exactly."

"I know you applied before," Noctis says. "It -- so, I don't read the stupid background checks they send me when I meet new people, not for friends, and never for boyfriends. But I got a separate note about that, which I did read. You got in, then dropped out before training."

"My family--"

"Right, see, I don't need to know why you dropped out, it's fine. And you're from Tenebrae, _of course_ you put in to serve in some way. It's that survivor guilt thing. Our armies are full of refugees. But… rejoining? Now?"

"My reasons for joining in the first place are still valid. I always planned to sign up again. And now I've the financial security to do so."

Noctis huffs, and then he's back closer again, his chin on Ignis's arm. "I mean, it's fine. It's noble and virtuous and brave of you to want to be a Crownsguard. It's just that it's _dangerous_ too."

Oh. "You put your life in danger regularly. Your rescue missions are often highly perilous."

"I know. I'm a hypocrite, okay? And I'm not going to say not to do it."

"Good." Ignis cranes his neck a little, kisses Noctis's pouty lips. "I'm a good fighter, and wasn't it you who said they couldn't let their abilities go to waste?"

"Ugh."

"And who knows, perhaps I'll get to help out on your rescue missions one day."

There's a pause, and then Noctis lets out a tired-sounding laugh. "True. And hey, you'll get security clearance. I'm sick of not being able to tell you what I'm doing."

A worrying notion, but of course Noctis has to keep some things secret from a mere commoner. Ignis fights down a little knot of sadness at the thought. He'll advance as quickly as he can, so Noctis can unburden if he needs to.

"Plus it's a sexy uniform," Noctis says, and there's a smile in his voice. "Which reminds me, what about the modelling?"

"I asked Master Dino. I'm still under contract, but I put that on the application."

"Huh." Noctis snorts, and then flops onto his back. "You'd better be as good as everyone thinks you are. I'd be a wreck if you got hurt."

That little knot of sadness is now tightening Ignis's throat. "Likewise."

Noctis's head turns, so he's facing Ignis again. "Make you a deal? Neither of us gets to die young."

"I'll take that bargain."

"Then it's settled." And as if it really is, Noctis closes the gap between them again, rests his head on Ignis's upper arm, and ducks his head so Ignis can press a kiss to the top of it. "And in the meantime, tomorrow, dinner," Noctis adds, his voice muffled by the angle.

"Yes. Bring your toothbrush," Ignis says, quietly. "Not all of us have spares."

A yawn, then. "Will do."

"Though perhaps you can forgo pyjamas."

That gets him a response that is so sleepily mumbled Ignis can barely make it out, but since it's likely just a quip Ignis presses another kiss, this time to Noctis's forehead, and lets his Prince fall asleep in his arms.

He'd expected -- well, not quite enthusiasm in response to his decision, perhaps, but fewer reservations on Noctis's part. Strange. But of course Noctis knows intimately the demands made on the Crownsguard, and at least his concerns seemed to be for Ignis's well-being and not for the impact it would have on the relationship between them.

Absentmindedly, he kisses Noctis's forehead one more time, and then lets himself follow Noctis into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm so hyped for Ignoct week! Can't wait to see all the fanworks.)


End file.
